The Perfect Match
by Harib0fizzz
Summary: (FACE family AU fic. Human names used.) Arthur is still trying to get over Alfred's mother running out on them for some other guy. His friends have been encouraging him to go on a dating site, and when he starts talking to a mysterious 'France', it is the start of something Arthur definitely wasn't expecting….Rated T for language and implied themes...cuz yh I'm going there...
1. France?

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia I wouldn't be writing Fanfiction…but I am….so I don't.**

**Summary: Arthur is still trying to get over Alfred's mother running out on them for some other guy. His friends have been encouraging him to go on a dating site, and when he starts talking to a mysterious 'France', it is the start of something Arthur definitely wasn't expecting….**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Time for bed, Alfred."

Alfred stopped playing with his action-hero toy and looked up at his father as he entered the room – blonde hair, green eyes, bushy eyebrows, bad temper, and utter meanie…a totally uncool dad.

"But Daaaaad!" Alfred whined, his little curl bouncing around as he crossed his arms huffily over his chest.

"You should've been in bed an hour ago." His father replied, frowning slightly and picking the boy up, placing him in his off-the-floor bed.

"I know what Mum would say!" Alfred yelled, starting his protest.

His father stiffened as Alfred mentioned his mother. "_Arthur, just how do you expect to be a good parent if you lack discipline?_" Alfred put on a high-pitched voice, mimicking his mother.

"That's enough out of you, Alfred." Arthur almost growled, not bothering to tuck his son in and turning out the light, slamming the door behind him. Alfred huddled under his blanket, knowing that, once again, he shouldn't have brought up the subject of his mother.

Arthur hadn't smiled even once since she ran off with some other guy, Alfred thought he had seen him hanging around the school a couple of times, but he didn't know the guy otherwise. His father had stayed in the house for weeks, the only one he saw was Alfred. He took to drinking, and when added to his bad temper, he could be very scary. But he stopped drinking so much when Social Services threatened to take Alfred away from him. Alfred was the one thing Arthur had left, and he would not ever let them be separated.

The man hesitated in the hallway outside Alfred's room, letting out a shaky breath before continuing downstairs. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting down – none too elegantly – at the kitchen table. Laying his head to rest on his arm, he watched the light from his laptop flash on and off – he had left it charging on the table and forgot to take it upstairs with him.

_She left you_

_Get over it_

_C'mon, how long has it been now?_

_You need to get up and start seeing people again_

_It'll do both you and Alfred some good_

_Trust me._

Arthur frowned as he thought of all those things his friends and colleagues had told him recently, and rested his forehead on the table.

_I…don't want to…let go… _Oh come now, that was taking a break-up to a whole new level of 'pathetic'. Arthur clenched his fists at how weak he was being, and grabbed his laptop, punching the keys as if everything that had gone wrong in his life was his laptop's fault. He browsed a few dating sites, but as soon as he clicked on them, the screen was filled with cheesy images of unrealistically happy couples with their hands intertwined.

It made Arthur rolled his eyes, until he came to a site that had the name simply as a banner at the top of the screen in elegant writing.

"Perfect Match?" Arthur read aloud – only the name of the site was cringe-worthy so far. He decided to look through the format and everything, to make sure he understood what it was asking him. _Okay, so far it's easy to follow…this is still a ridiculous idea though. _He hesitated, but made a profile, leaving out any information about Alfred – if they were really promising, then he'd tell them, otherwise they didn't need to know about him. He selected an appropriate image of him – Alfred, his mother and Arthur all smiling on holiday, with Alfred and his mum cropped out carelessly. He waited for around half an hour with the tab still open, while he checked his empty email inbox for the tenth time. All of a sudden, a small notification popped up saying '_France sent you a message_'.

'France'? What sort of username was that? He clicked on the message, and read it with a somewhat amused look.

_'Bonjour, new member! You look interesting…'_

Well, that was a cheesy hello.

'Interesting how?' Arthur replied, wanting to know more about this 'France' person.

_'Different. A lot of men on this site have pictures of them topless and showing off their obviously fake abs…but you look normal.'_

'Well I apologise for my lack of abs.' The Brit replied, smirking a little.

'France' sent a smiley emoticon in return, before saying '_So how long have you been single?'_

Arthur and 'France' spent most of the night talking about casual, personal, and general things, and before he knew it, Alfred was wondering downstairs sleepily.

"You're up early," Alfred remarked, before looking at the bags under his father's eyes and correcting himself. "Or, you never went to sleep at all last night?"

Arthur smiled somewhat guiltily at him. "I guess I didn't realise the time." He said apologetically.

"What were you even doing?" Alfred asked, curiously stepping over to peer at the laptop screen, but Arthur put the lid down before he could.

"Breakfast?" Arthur changed the subject, and the seven year-old trudged over and sat down at the table.

"Yeah…" He mumbled.

"'Yeah' what?" Arthur always believed there was nothing wrong with good manners.

"Yeah…_please_…" Alfred corrected, emphasising the word with sarcasm and pulling a face.

"Was that so hard?" Arthur asked, but his son only grunted in response. Arthur made him a bowl of cereal – he complained about any of Arthur's home-cooking – pausing with his hand still on the bowl until Alfred thanked him for it through gritted teeth. He let go of the bowl and set about making his own breakfast, when a little beep came from his laptop. He blushed slightly as he remembered he was still talking to 'France'. Alfred gave him a suspicious look, but he ignored it, setting his bowl down and taking the seat opposite Alfred.

"Have you got your bag ready yet?" Arthur asked, and his son nodded, acting like he was already bored of the conversation. Arthur dismissed the behaviour, and the over-exaggerated yawn his son displayed. "What about your homework? Have you done – "

"Yeah, yeah…" Alfred replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"Alfred…" Arthur began in a warning tone, but Alfred looked up, silently challenging him to continue. Arthur narrowed his eyes and sipped his tea, avoiding a yelling match that would've occurred had Arthur done anything to rise to the boy. He knew his son well, but the scary thing was how well his son knew him. Arthur glanced at the clock as he took another sip of tea. Then did a double-take and hurriedly looked back at it to see that Alfred needed to be in school in ten minutes. Alfred noticed too and grabbed his bag as Arthur grabbed his keys and they drove off to school in a rush.

* * *

_Well, that was hectic as usual… _Arthur thought to himself as he walked back through the front door. He just hoped Alfred hadn't forgotten anything. He sighed, hanging his keys back up on the little hook by the door, and decided to make a cup of tea. Putting the teabag in the cup, he automatically filled the kettle up and began boiling the water, without even having to look where he put everything – it was his routine now. Once he had made his tea, he settled down and opened up his laptop. Almost at once multiple notifications saying '_France sent you a message_' all popped up. _Wow, this girl must really want to talk to me_. He thought, a little flattered, actually. The first few messages were just smiling and winking emoticons, then it started saying '_Are you there_?' and '_If you don't want to talk, just say…_'

Arthur set his cup down and began typing:

'Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you like that, I was…' Arthur thought for a moment. 'Busy.' _If she doesn't care, she won't ask. _

'Busy? Your life must be interesting then…' Arthur slowly got the implied meaning, and blushed, even though no one was looking at him.

'No, I didn't mean like…_that_.'

_'Like what, mon ami?' _He could almost see the smirk written over the typed words.

Arthur sent an unimpressed emoticon at that, and 'France' sent a laughing one back to him. He had to smile, which was surprising as no one had been able to make him smile that easily before. They started another conversation, causing Arthur to be late picking Alfred up. But all the while, he just couldn't get the mysterious 'France' out of his thoughts.

_Who was this 'France' person, and why do I want to meet her more and more every time we talk?_

* * *

**A/N: So that was the first chapter of my hopefully long FACE family fanfic! Did you like how Arthur automatically assumed France to be a girl? Muhahaha XD Reviews please! (Like, seriously, you have no idea how much they mean to me!) *has no life and doesn't care***


	2. You're interesting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter 2**

Alfred noticed that his father had seemed happier since last night, but he also seemed to be glued to his laptop, and that was very strange, especially for a man who believes too much of the 'small screens' is bad for you. The young boy sat in his room, trying to work it out as he heard his father chuckle slightly downstairs.

_He couldn't be talking to Mom, because he'd be in a bad mood by now. Maybe to one of his friends?_

Alfred tried to think of any friends his father even had. There was the Chinese guy who lived next door, but Arthur only really talked to him if he needed someone to look after Alfred. His son suddenly realised what a loner Arthur was – he didn't even have any proper friends!

_Maybe it was a good thing he was talking to someone online then_, Alfred thought, smiling a little. No matter what it looked like to other people, Alfred did _love_ his father, he just didn't _like_ him very much.

_Whoever this girl is, she really knows how to talk to people…_Arthur thought as 'France' sent something else, making him smile a little. He supposed he should've expected what came next.

_'So, you seem like an interesting man. We should meet up for dinner sometime, oui?'_ She said. Arthur didn't reply for a few minutes, so she continued.

_'I mean, why are you on a match site if you didn't want to meet new people, hm?_' She had a point.

'Alright,' Arthur typed back, and she sent him the details of a nice restaurant that only happened to be a little way from his own house.

_Le Bel Endroit_? He had gone past it a few times, but never really paid much attention to it.

'When?' He typed back, and she immediately replied, '_Saturday evening? 7pm_?'

'Sounds good.' He replied shortly, though inside he was actually excited. 'How shall I know it's you?'

'_Blonde hair, blue eyes, calling your name until you look over_?'

He smiled, she still wasn't giving much away, was she?

'Alright then,' he sent, and she replied with that somewhat cheesy line, '_It's a date, mon cher…_'

'I have to go now, but I'll look forward to seeing you then.' He said, about to log off, before another message popped up.

'_Oui, mon cher, so will I…_' That made him happy for some reason._ Someone is willingly talking to me and wants to go on a – don't get ahead of yourself, Arthur._ He mentally calmed himself, before going upstairs to Alfred's room.

The boy was enthusiastically killing some teddy bears with a little toy alien his parents had bought him when he was a baby.

"Having fun?" The man asked casually, going over and sitting on the boy's bed.

"What's up, Dad?" Alfred asked, putting 'Tony' – the alien – down to show that he was giving him his full attention, and grinning at him.

Arthur raised a huge eyebrow, before smiling back slightly.

"I'm going out on Saturday night, and I'm going to ask Yao to look after you, is that alright?"

Alfred pulled a face. "But you can't even breathe in that house without him saying 'Don't break this or don't touch that!', and his kids are mean! Can't I stay with…hm…" He thought for a while, before his face lit up. "What about Miss Hed – Heda – Harvey?" Alfred could never pronounce her name, but Elizaveta was always nice to him.

"If you mean Miss _Héderváry, _I don't think she wants to be burdened with you again…"

"But I promise I'll be good this time!" Alfred looked at him – he had perfected a certain 'puppy-dog' look over the years, and Arthur always seemed to fall for it eventually.

"Alright, I'll call her. But if there's even a hint of unwillingness in her voice, then you're staying with Yao, understand?" But Alfred wasn't listening.

"Yay!" He shouted, running happily around the room. Elizaveta only lived down the street, but the way Alfred was acting, you'd have thought she was some long-lost aunt or something. Arthur sighed, knowing that Elizaveta would be more than happy for his son to stay with her – after all, it must be lonely living by yourself.

He began going down the stairs, but had to stop as Alfred zoomed past him and stood next to the phone excitedly. Arthur shook his head a little at this, before dialling the number and putting a finger on his lips, signalling Alfred should be quiet.

A chirpy sounding woman with a strong Hungarian accent answered.

_"Szia?"_ Arthur assumed she said 'Hello' and began.

"Hello, it's – "

_"Arthur? How nice to hear from you again!"_ He didn't realise his voice was so easily identifiable.

"Yes, hello. Um, I was wondering, are you free on Saturday night?" He blushed as he realised what that sounded like. "T-To look after Alfred I mean."

Elizaveta seemed oblivious – or maybe she was just being kind – and immediately replied.

_"Of course! May I ask where you're going on said Saturday evening?"_ She was nice, but she did like a bit of information. Before he could reply, she squealed down the phone.

_"Do you have a girlfriend, Arthur?" _

"N-No…" He replied, turning away from Alfred to hide his blush.

_"…Boyfriend, then?"_ She sounded a lot more hopeful this time.

"No!" Arthur almost yelled, but she just laughed.

_"Alright, alright….so?"_

"How about I tell you when I drop Alfred off?"

_"Okay then! What time?" _

"Um…is half past six alright for you?"

_"Mm hmm!"_ Again, Arthur was going to take that for a 'yes'.

"Thank you so much. Bye now." He hung up, slightly happier now that Alfred had been dealt with.

Alfred, who was hanging on every word his father had said, started skipping around in the hallway in excitement.

"What day is it today, Dad?" He asked, stopping right next to his father.

"It's Friday…" He trailed off.

He'd known what the day was, but it didn't register that he would be going on his date…TOMORROW!

The thought made him very excited, and he had to calm himself down before Alfred thought he was having some sort of seizure.

"Oh yeah…YUSH! No more school for a whole 2 days!" Alfred always got happier over the weekends – he always thought school was boring and he was never going to need it in the future.

Well, he wasn't, but if Arthur told him that, Alfred would never go to school again.

"AND…I get to see Miss what's-her-name too! She has like THE BEST cookies in the whole wide world!" He gestured wildly with his hands to help put his point across. Arthur didn't bother correcting him again, he'd never be able to say her surname so there was no point in wasting breath.

* * *

As soon as Arthur pulled up outside Elizaveta's house, Alfred was out of the car and knocking loudly on the door. It opened almost immediately and both Alfred and Elizaveta grinned at each other excitedly. She had probably been waiting for this as much as Alfred had. She enjoyed spending time with his son, although Arthur would never fully understand why. He walked up the pretty, well-kept drive and was greeted with a friendly hug from the Hungarian. She beckoned them both inside and directed Alfred to the cookies in the kitchen, before literally dragging Arthur into another room. _God, she was strong when she wanted to be._

"So…?" Her eyes gleamed as she waited for Arthur to explain. _Much like another child. Maybe that's why they got along so well._

"It's…a date, I guess." He confessed, and Elizaveta was confused as to why he couldn't mention that over the phone. He saw her look and explained.

"Alfred…and I…still aren't completely…over his mother leaving…" The Hungarian smiled sympathetically at him.

"I understand. So, he doesn't know you're going on a date, I take it?" Arthur shook his head.

"So, where does he think you're going?"

"He didn't ask." Arthur said simply, shrugging a little. Elizaveta smiled, and hugged him again.

"I think you're doing the right thing, Arthur." She told him, releasing him and smiling at him warmly. The Englishman smiled back slightly, before glancing at the clock on the wall behind her.

"I have to go now. Thanks again for this!" Arthur said, already heading for the front door again.

"It's my pleasure! Oh, and Arthur?" She called, making him stop and turn around.

"Yes?"

"I can let Alfred stay overnight if you want me to…" She winked at him, and he blushed, muttering a nervous "That won't be necessary, thank you!" before getting back in the car and driving off down the street.

Elizaveta smiled, before joining Alfred in the kitchen with the now half-empty plate of cookies.

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**A/N: Haha…okay so although this basically tells you nothing, I wanted to put more detail into it! But I promise you it will move along more soon! Next chapter is the date~~~**

**Reviews please!**


	3. First Date

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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**Chapter 3**

Arthur gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual as he drove towards _Le Bel Endroit_, his face a mask of concentration as he felt the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as if they were trying to get free.

_What am I getting so worked up about anyway? It's not like I've never been on a date before….it's just that…the last time, it was with_ her…

The Englishman mentally shook his head, swearing that he would not think about _her_ anymore. Especially not tonight…

He suddenly realised he had already parked in the restaurant car park, so he took a deep breath and got out of the car, making a mental reminder not to have too much to drink. He straightened his tie as he looked in the little wing-mirror, before frowning at himself, but deciding he looked presentable, and walked in. He was greeted by the sound of traditional French music and delicious smells as stood nervously for a few moments, before he heard his name.

"Arthur Kirkland? _Oui_, Arthur!" He turned around, completely unprepared for what he saw next.

_Blonde hair? Yes. _

_Blue eyes? Yes. _

_Of the female fucking gender? I think not! _

Before him, sat a man, with wavy girly blonde hair, bright, sparkling blue eyes, and a light stubble on his chin, holding a half-empty wine glass in his hand.

"What the hell? Where's the '_France_' person?!" Arthur asked, raising his voice slightly. The other man set down his wine glass, and gestured to the seat opposite.

"Please sit down, _et_ I shall explain, _oui_?" He asked, looking intently at the Englishman. Arthur frowned, but sat down somewhat warily.

"Fine." He growled, evidently annoyed at this sudden twist. The man looked grateful, pouring some wine into a second glass and offering it to him. Arthur said he wouldn't drink tonight, but he seriously needed something right now. He took the glass, nodding his head slightly in thanks.

"My real name is Francis Bonnefoy." He began, his French accent annoying Arthur already. He must have shown it on his face, for Francis continued more quickly. "I made a profile on 'Perfect Match' with my real name and profile picture, but then all these young women kept sending _moi_ messages – it was obvious they were only looking for one thing, so I made a new one, allowing me to see other people instead."

Arthur thought Francis was flattering himself a little there; _he's not that good-looking…or attractive in a…different way…no, not at all! _

"So I looked through the 'new members', _et_ when I saw you…I thought you looked intriguing, to say the least."

"Intriguing?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Exactly what do you mean by that?" He couldn't tell whether the Frenchman was complimenting him or not.

Francis smirked, raising his wine glass to his lips while studying Arthur's scowling face. "Interesting. Not trying to impress anyone like so many people on that site – just being you." He put his glass down again. "Well, that's the impression I got anyway…"

"To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it that much, I just filled it in and then you messaged me." Arthur blushed a little, thinking of how he had flirted with this man when he thought he was a woman. Francis seemed to notice this, and cleared his throat.

"I enjoyed talking with you. It was like…_vous_ _et moi_ could converse easily, _non_?" He looked at Arthur, waiting for an answer. When he received nothing but a slight frown in response, he continued.

"You liked talking to _moi, oui_? Well, I am still the same person, you just happen to know my gender now. Nothing has changed, _mon ami_." He did have a point.

"I suppose…you're right. But, I'm not – "

"I understand." Francis interrupted him. "I just thought you should know who you were talking to. Do you hate _moi_ for deceiving you?" He asked. Arthur hesitated. He didn't…_hate_ him…he just…he didn't know what he thought of this man, really. He shook his head slightly, and Francis looked happier suddenly, smiling at him.

"I'm glad, for it wouldn't be good for someone to hate his date, would it?" Arthur blushed, taking a sip of his wine. He had almost forgotten this was meant to be a date. Francis smirked at the other man's reaction, handing him a menu.

"We may as well eat, _oui_? Even if you no longer feel comfortable seeing this as a date, _mon cher_."

He was doing his best not to scare Arthur away, and he appreciated it.

"Yes, why not?" He smiled, surprising himself – he never smiled so easily, especially around new people. Then again, he had been talking with Francis for a while already…_damned frog._ He scanned through the menu – which was pretty pointless because everything was in French anyway.

Francis chuckled quietly at the expression Arthur was making as he tried to make sense of the French writing.

"I gather…you don't speak much _Français_?" The Englishman looked up at him.

"I don't speak _any_ French, actually. I never did find it to be a useful language." He continued to look at Francis challengingly; most people would jump to defending their own language, but Francis merely smiled.

"Believe me, _mon cher_, it _does_ have its uses…" Arthur missed the smirk Francis wore as he said that, and the Frenchman leaned over before he could say anything.

"I shall help you, _oui_?" Arthur noticed how close Francis suddenly was, but he didn't want to make a scene, so he nodded as a blush tainted his cheeks. They were both quiet a moment, Arthur listening to the French melody floating around the restaurant as Francis read the menu. Arthur almost pointed out that Francis did, in fact, have his own menu to look at, but before he could, Francis smiled.

"_Bon_, do you have any allergies, _mon cher_?" He asked, turning to look at Arthur's heated face. Arthur none-too-discreetly moved his chair away from Francis slightly, and smirked.

"Only to bullshit, Frog." He replied, making Francis raise an eyebrow. He pretended to look through the menu again. "Luckily for you, I do not think they serve 'bullshit' here, _mon ami_."

_Very witty_.

Francis grinned at him, and the corners of Arthur's mouth curved upwards slightly in response.

The evening continued much like this, with Arthur making a sarcastic comment and Francis, instead of being offended by it, countered it with a comment of his own. Francis ordered food for them, and although Arthur didn't know what it was exactly, it was still delicious. Arthur also seemed to like the wine, and Francis was more than happy to order another bottle, because Arthur was no longer looking uncomfortable and seemed to be enjoying himself more.

* * *

A few hours later, Francis was stood outside the restaurant, holding up a rather drunken Englishman. He looked around for a moment, before routing through Arthur's pockets. He found what he was looking for, as he dialled the most recently used number on Arthur's phone. It rang for a few moments, before a click told Francis that someone had picked up.

"_Bonjour_, do you know Arthur Kirkland?"

"_Yes, who is this_?"

"My name is Francis. Arthur _et moi_ went out for dinner, _et_ he somehow managed to get a little drunk. I was wondering if you knew where he lived, so I could take him home."

He heard a squeal from the other line. "_Of course! He lives at number 6, Morehead Way_."

"_Merci_."

"_So, is Arthur gay then_?"

"Uh, it was a difficult situation that I'm sure he can explain to you, Miss…um?"

"_Elizaveta, Arthur's friend_."

"Ah, I see."

"_He keeps the spare key under the 'welcome mat' just in case you need it. Oh, and I can let Alfred stay the night_."

"Alfred?"

"_Yes, his son_."

"He has a son?"

"_Oh, didn't he tell you? Alfred is his son from a previous marriage. I'm sorry, I thought he may have told you."_

"Well, _merci_ for your help, Madame…" He hung up, a somewhat bemused look on his face. _Arthur was a father?_

He would never have guessed that. _Why didn't he say so_? He thought as he dragged Arthur to his _Renault Clio_, carefully placing the almost unconscious Englishman in the passenger seat, before pushing the door closed and getting into the driver's seat.

He sighed, glancing over at Arthur before starting the engine.

Thankfully, he vaguely knew where Morehead Way was, and drove there with hardly any trouble. He went up to number 6 and lifted up the 'welcome mat', before unlocking the door and then carrying Arthur – not very gracefully – upstairs, closing the front door with his foot.

He took Arthur's jacket, shoes and shirt off for him, pausing for a moment to take in the modest man's figure. He left the trousers on, because he didn't want Arthur to assume something that didn't even happen. He laid the other man in what he presumed was his bed, before turning the lights out upstairs and leaving a little note for Arthur.

Then he drove off after locking the door and placing the key back under the 'welcome mat', all the while thinking about what Arthur was like as a father.

* * *

**A/N: So…? Was it good/bad/awful/mildly amusing/hilarious/will you please review to tell me? Thanks!**


	4. A few things we need to talk about

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes, greeted with a throbbing head as he sat up. He recognised with bleary eyes that he was in his own room, but the last thing he remembered…he was…oh God. He jumped out of bed, forgetting about his hangover and groaning again at his protesting head, before moving more slowly. He realised that his shirt had been taken off, but his trousers remained – _maybe he did that…why? Oh, I don't know. It's too fucking early to think._

He looked at the clock on the desk, eyes widening as he saw that it was two o'clock in the afternoon! He checked Alfred's room and realised he must still be with Elizaveta. He was going to have to apologise to her for this, sighing as he went over to the phone. He was about to call, when he saw a little note with his name written in pretty, scrawled writing. He frowned as he picked it up and unfolded it.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Yesterday was nice, we should do it again sometime. _

_But next time, maybe go steadier on the alcohol, oui?_

_I hope you sleep well,_

_Francis_

Arthur frowned: now Francis knew a lot more about him, and they had only met once! Francis had written his phone number at the bottom of the paper, and Arthur copied it onto his phone before disposing of the letter. The last thing he wanted was for Alfred to find it. Arthur was about to dial Elizaveta's number, when the doorbell rang, making Arthur wince slightly, before opening the door.

"Dad!" Alfred yelled, barrelling into his father. He looked past Alfred to see Elizaveta standing there, looking apologetic.

"I said to wait until you called, but Alfred was very anxious to see you." She explained, as Arthur got up.

"That's alright, I was going to call you anyway. I'm sorry I left Alfred at yours overnight – " He began, but Elizaveta smiled.

"Nonsense! It was my pleasure! So…did it go well?" She asked, and Arthur blushed. Alfred took the hint and ran up to his room, yelling something about cookies and being a hero.

Arthur stood aside to let the Hungarian woman in, and they both sat down on opposite sofas in the living room. Elizaveta's eyes were almost sparkling with anticipation, but Arthur merely stood up and got the letter out of the drawer he had 'disposed' of it in. He handed it to her, sitting back down again.

She read it, before placing it down on the coffee table, thoughtfully. After a few moments, she looked up at him.

"I thought you said you were going to go easy on the drink, Arthur?" The Englishman was shocked. Wasn't she surprised that his date had turned out to be a man? Elizaveta sensed this, and smiled.

"Look at your call history." She said simply, and Arthur, frowning, did so.

"I called you?" He asked, not remembering much at all.

"Francis did." She corrected. Arthur's eyes widened as she continued. "He wanted to know where you lived so he could take you home. Your car is still at the restaurant where you left it, I believe. He sounded like a nice man, but you didn't tell me you were – "

"I didn't know he was going to be a man!" Arthur blurted, looking down at his hands guiltily when Elizaveta fell silent. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she waited patiently for him to continue, staring at him with her sparkling green eyes. The man sighed as he leaned back in his chair, as if just thinking about it was too taxing for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, stalling for a few moments before sighing again. Then he began to explain: Elizaveta's eyes widening every second, and…was she almost grinning?

By the end of it, his Hungarian neighbour looked like she was about to explode. Suddenly, she squealed. Like, actual, full-on I'm-having-a-fangirl-attack-oh-my-gosh-I'm-dying kind of squeal. Upon seeing Arthur's somewhat concerned expression directed towards her, Elizaveta regained control of her inner fangirl and cleared her throat.

"That's very….sweet." She managed without jumping up and hugging him.

"Sweet?" He replied. "Are you mad? The man lied about his gender – "

Elizaveta swiftly interrupted him. "_Technically_ he never said he was a woman…"

"Yes but…he didn't bother to clarify!" Arthur was resisting the urge to yell, but he was failing a little.

But his neighbour was about to do all she could to make this relationship work. Ever since she had accidentally walked in on her boss and his albino lover one time, she had been a committed LGBT supporter, and she would do anything it took to keep those in the possible start of a relationship together. Some called her obsessive, but Elizaveta and her Japanese friend, Kiku, were merely helping relationships along in their minds.

"So, do you want to see him again?" She asked, more delicately this time, for fear of pressuring him. She wanted Arthur to feel he could trust her, otherwise she wouldn't get to see any Kawaii moments (What she and Kiku call fluffy moments) between the two. And she wanted to be a good friend, of course…but it was mainly the Kawaii moments she was after.

Elizaveta had noticed that, while she was pondering the fluffiness of Arthur's relationship, said man had gone very quiet. She noticed that he was looking down slightly, as if he were ashamed, and his brow had furrowed as he contemplated seeing Francis again.

"…I guess, I wouldn't mind seeing him again…" He mumbled, and the Hungarian smiled. She was sure this particular Englishman's relationship was going to work out.

"So when do I get to meet this mysterious Francis then, eh?" She asked, sounding chirpier at the thought of meeting the man who took care of Arthur even though he barely knew him.

"Slow down, Elizaveta. Not even Alfred's met him yet, and I've only met him once." He thought his neighbour was getting a little too eager for this to work out. She pouted slightly, before sighing.

"Fine…when are you going to see him next, then?" She persisted, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I don't know, it just – " His mobile ringing interrupted him as the intro to _'It's My Life'_ by _Bon Jovi_ filled the room, finishing his sentence for him. Elizaveta smiled at the typical tone the Englishman had set as his ringtone, but Arthur missed her reaction as he accepted the call.

"Hello?" He asked clearly.

"_Ah, bonjour, Arthur_!" A cheerful French accent sounded on the other end of the line, making Arthur's chest flutter. He ignored the feeling however, and forced a frown onto his face, for he noted that Elizaveta was scrutinising his face intently for any clues as to who he was talking to. He turned his back to her, casually moving into the kitchen, for fear that his neighbour would catch too much of the conversation.

"Francis? How did you get my number?" Arthur asked; he wouldn't admit it, but he was thrilled that Francis had called him.

"_Ah, sorry about that. I copied your number onto my phone last night, when you were…uh…sleeping it off…_" Arthur mentally face-palmed as he remembered he had been so nervous and confused last night, that he had called upon his addictive yet troublesome friend, alcohol, to help him comprehend the information he had to take in yesterday evening.

"Oh, right." Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Sorry about that…but…um…Elizaveta told me you took good care of me last night."

"_Well, I couldn't just abandon you, mon ami, that wouldn't be a very good end to a first date now, would it_?" He laughed quietly into the phone, causing Arthur to blush faintly. "_Besides, Miss Elizaveta was very willing to help moi out a bit_."

Arthur chuckled as Francis tried to address Elizaveta formally, but either she did not tell him her surname, or he simply couldn't pronounce it, like Alfred.

"_How's Alfred, by the way_?" Francis asked innocently, and Arthur almost shrieked into the phone.

"H-How did you know about Alfred?!" He demanded, and Elizaveta winced at hearing his raised voice. _Oops, perhaps I should have mentioned I shared this little detail with Francis…_At this thought, Elizaveta decided she would retreat upstairs to go play with Alfred for a while.

Meanwhile, Arthur was still waiting for an answer from the handsome but irritating Frenchman.

"Well?" He insisted rather impatiently, suddenly becoming defensive.

"_Your neighbour told me. I'm sorry, I thought you would've given her permission to tell moi…I'm guessing that is not so…_?"

"Not it's bloody not 'so'!" The Brit practically yelled down the phone. _Damn it! He was a nice guy but now he's going to avoid me just because I'm sort of tied down!_

"_Why didn't you want me to know, Arthur_?" His voice had taken on a gentler tone, as if he was understanding.

_Of course, he didn't understand! He doesn't have to bring up his difficult son on his own because his wife left him! _

Arthur was silent for a few moments, before finally sighing.

"I thought it would…put you off. I mean, more than the inability to hold my liquor and my bad temper and horrific eyebrows…" Arthur suddenly realised just how pathetic he was, and was all ready to hang up in the Frenchman there and then, but Francis stopped him from doing so.

"_Not being able to handle your drink very well isn't a weakness or bad quality, Arthur. Also, you had every right to be in a bad mood when I revealed my true identity to you, et your eyebrows make you look cute_."

This surprised Arthur. No one had ever viewed him in this way. Francis had taken the things Arthur hated most about himself, and made them seem like they weren't that bad at all. The Englishman smiled at the Frenchman's words, before uttering a quiet 'Thank you, Francis' into the receiver.

He could almost hear the other man smile on the phone, before he spoke again.

"_So, would you like to meet again, Arthur? I think there's a few things we need to talk about_." He was right.

They'd only properly met once, but Arthur had already shared so much about his usually guarded life, that Francis deserved to know a bit more, at least. He had not been completely honest with the Frenchman, and he didn't want to base a relationship on that.

_Yes, we do need to talk. And I want to see you again._

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**A/N: Sorry for not updating for a while but I haven't been in the best mood or had much inspiration as of late. I hope you enjoyed this chapter – next chapter will be revealing more not only about Arthur, but Francis as well. **

**Reviews are much appreciated! ^,^**


	5. Forgive me for asking

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter 5**

Arthur's hands gripped the steering wheel somewhat nervously as he drove in the direction of the address Francis had given him. Rain was lashing furiously against the windscreen, and the wipers swept across the screen in a vain attempt to clear it. But Arthur paid no mind to the weather – his thoughts were occupied with how much he may have to reveal a man he had only met once before. It would obviously depend on how much Francis was willing to tell him in return, because he didn't know why but he was feeling like he could trust Francis more than some people he had known for a considerably longer amount of time. Arthur concentrated on the road, not wanting any rogue thoughts to place doubt or an unshakable nagging feeling in the back of his mind. One thing was for sure, he was going to have to explain more about Alfred.

* * *

"Come on now, mon petit Mathieu. Your Aunt is waiting for you." Francis said gently, ushering a little blonde boy holding a stuffed bear out to a car where a young woman with two red bows tied in her brown hair was waving to the boy. His little almost purple eyes lit up upon seeing her, hugging Francis before rushing over and getting into the car. Francis waved from the porch, watching the car disappear around the corner before turning and going back into his recently tidied house. He was usually a neat man, however lately trying to juggle multiple things such as his job and taking care of Mathieu meant sacrificing neatness for ease. As Francis looked around the room, checking for any stray toys or anything Mathieu may have left, the light from the lamp shone on the glass of the singular photo on the mantelpiece. He sighed, approaching it as if he were afraid getting too close would release all the memories that the photograph held within its decorated frame. Before he could dwell on the photo for too long, a rather uncertain knock sounded at the front door, and Francis went over to open it.

"_Bonjour_, Arthur." Francis greeted with a smile. The other man looked a little nervous, only offering Francis a tiny smile in return as he entered the Frenchman's home.

"Hello, Francis." Arthur eventually acknowledged the man as he glanced around at his surroundings. Francis sensed the Brit was quite out of his comfort-zone, and hurried to try and make him feel a little more relaxed.

"May I get you a drink?" He asked, taking Arthur's coat from him and hanging it on the banister where, Arthur observed, the coat of a child was also hanging, but he did not question it at that moment.

"Yes, please." He hesitated, remembering their previous meeting. "Tea, if you have any." He requested, avoiding Francis' gaze as they both shared thoughts of yesterday evening.

"You are in luck, _mon ami_. Usually, we do not have any, but my sister visited so I bought some for her." Arthur noticed the Frenchman had said 'we' instead of 'I'. The Englishman's curiosity was slowly growing with every observation he made. As Francis disappeared into the kitchen, Arthur's attention was drawn to the photograph on the mantelpiece. As he took a closer look, he saw that it was of Francis, a little boy with blonde hair and a cute little curl that disobeyed the rest of his hair, and a woman with almost purple eyes, like the child's, and pale-blonde hair. She was very pretty, and the three of them looked very happy together. Arthur noted that the little boy looked like a smaller version of his – he was assuming – mother, but he had the same hair as Francis, making him look very shy and innocent.

Francis came back into the room with a cup of tea in his hand, catching Arthur looking at the photograph. The Englishman stepped back guiltily, apologising profusely, but Francis wasn't angry with him. He smiled instead.

"_Mon ami_, if I did not want anyone to see that picture, I wouldn't have it on the mantelpiece, would I?" His tone was friendly as he set the cup down on the coffee table, and went to join Arthur, looking fondly at the image. Arthur, being a gentleman, didn't want to ask any questions, but the expression on his face showed Francis that he was very curious indeed. The Frenchman carefully picked u the photograph, bringing it back with him as he sat down on the French-style sofa, patting the seat next to him as a gesture for Arthur to sit with him. The Brit did so quietly, waiting for Francis to quench his curiosity a little. Francis sighed, staring at the picture a moment longer before he began.

"The lady in the picture is my wife, Marie Williams. She was the love of my life, _et_ we were very happy together." He said gently, almost whispering when he said her name.

"…Was?" Arthur asked as he noticed the past tense, his usually serious tone softening a little.

"_Oui_. She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after our son turned three years old." Arthur could see the tears threatening to form in Francis' eyes, but the Frenchman ignored them. "She died not more than a year later…" he trailed off, his voice going slightly shaky.

"…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset…" Arthur apologised as he felt a pang in his chest. Having your wife walk out on you was one thing, but the love of your life being taken in such a cruel way…

"My son," Francis continued after a few moments, "He draws these pictures of him _et moi_, and then this big, black scribble. He interprets cancer as some sort of monster that took his mother away – even now he refuses to believe that cancer is an illness. He says the black scribble is the cancer, and he's drawn one over every picture he used to draw of the three of us."

Arthur's heart ached for the poor child – having to cope with something from such an early age, not being able to explain it so he used his own four year-old logic to cope with it. The Englishman hesitantly put his hand on Francis' shoulder, and said man offered him a small, sad smile of gratitude. They stayed like that for a few moments, before Francis sighed and mentally shook his head.

"_Désolé, _you did not come here to listen to me blabbering on." Arthur smiled at the other man.

"It's perfectly alright, and you weren't 'blabbering on'." Francis smiled at this.

"So, what about you _et_ Alfred then, _mon ami_?" Arthur was surprised Francis had even remembered Alfred's name, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Francis much about him yet. Francis must've read his mind.

"It's alright, you don't have to tell _moi._ I understand that I'm quite an open person…" He gave Arthur an apologetic look, before looking down at his hands.

_Well now, it was hardly fair that Francis had told me about his past life, and now I am denying Francis the same knowledge about me?_

Arthur cleared his throat, smiling kindly. "My story is not half as sad as yours – I don't want to seem competitive in any way…"

Francis chuckled – a nice sound to hear from the man who had recently been close to tears. "What a bizarre thought, _mon ami_. It never occurred to _moi_ to think about it in that way before." Arthur hesitated a moment, before nodding as he made up his mind to tell the other man after all.

"Well," He began casually, trying not to seem too bothered by it. "My wife was always lecturing me on how to bring Alfred up properly. I was doing a bloody good job, if I may say so, because she was never there to look after him anyway." Arthur was confused as to why he was getting angry about it – it was over and he never loved that bitch anyway.

He regained composure, before continuing. "She said I wasn't fit to bring Alfred up, and I got mad, yelling at her to 'go and prove it'…so she ran off with this guy who used to hang around Alfred's school, and I went over the edge. I began drinking heavily, and it got so bad that Social Services had threatened to take my son away unless my habits improved. I couldn't let them take him away – he's the only person I have left. I'd anything ever happened to him, I don't know what I'd do…"

Francis' eyes widened as he heard the Englishman's story, and it was his turn to comfort the other man. Arthur didn't realise he had said so much – it honestly shocked him to see how comfortable he was with telling Francis this.

"How terrible for you, _mon ami_…" Francis spoke gently, as if not wanting to upset either of them further by speaking too loudly. The Englishman sighed.

"It was at the time, but now I couldn't care less what she did to me and Alfred." He stated, shrugging it off as if it hadn't cost him a year of therapy and close-cutting with Social Services to get over it.

"Forgive me for asking," He ventured, turning to look at Francis, who in turn looked back at him.

"_Oui_?"

"What was your wife like? I mean, I can tell you loved her very much…" Francis smiled sadly.

"_Oui_, I did. She was kind-hearted, always willing to stop _et_ help someone in need, when anyone else would just walk straight past without looking. She was loved by everyone who knew her – especially those closest to her. Marie always took other's opinions into account before doing anything." He chuckled to himself as he remembered something. "She even made _moi_ swear I was happy with calling our son Mathieu before setting it in stone. That's the sort of person she was." Arthur couldn't possibly imagine her, but she sounded like the nicest woman on God's green earth.

"When she died, Mathieu asked if he could change his last name from Bonnefoy to Williams, so that she would never be forgotten by him or _moi_." Arthur frowned slightly, remembering that Alfred's mother had insisted their son take her surname – Jones – as his surname instead of Kirkland. It pissed Arthur off to no end but he couldn't change it until the boy was eighteen. Francis noted the frown on Arthur's face.

"_Désolé, _did I say too much?" He asked, his French accent drawing Arthur out of his thoughts and making the man's expression soften.

"Not at all." He replied, offering the Frenchman a small smile, which Francis readily returned.

At first, Arthur had thought Francis was some sort of joke – a French idiot who was so bored with his life that he decided to interfere with Arthur's as well. But, the more he talked with the other man, the more Arthur realised how far his first impression was from the truth. They were both single fathers, they both had sons about the same age. Who knows, maybe they could become good friends…

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**A/N: So…yeah. I'm not really sure where this was going but now you know my version of France and England's backgrounds. Next chapter: I don't even know…we'll see what happens! **

**_Until then, mon ami…_**


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